


Sk8er Boi

by wandering_gypsy_feet



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Please Don't Hate Me, bless you spotify for this, from cersei's pov!, guys i don't know where this came from, oh god is it a songfic, sansa x sandor - Freeform, sansan, sk8er boi, viva la 90's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 03:56:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19455838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wandering_gypsy_feet/pseuds/wandering_gypsy_feet
Summary: Cersei Lannister knows that Sandor Clegane has a crush on her. What boy wouldn't? But he's a punk and she does ballet, so what more could they say?Sansan, but from our favorite bitch's perspective.





	Sk8er Boi

**Author's Note:**

> this came to me like a fever dream during my 3 am flight from Colorado
> 
> you may blame spotify's all out 2000's playlist for coming for my middle school memories and dredging forth my fears that i am yet living the song sk8er boi
> 
> but first, sansan
> 
> (seriously, it's there, don't fret about cersei)

“Who’s that guy that keeps staring at you?” Jeyne demands of Cersei, who cranes her neck to look. Both Jeyne and Melara are glaring accusingly at a youth sitting on a picnic table. Cersei doesn’t have to squint to make out who it is, even if he is halfway across the courtyard.

“Clegane,” she explains airily. “He works for my dad. Jamie says he has such a crush on me.”

“He looks like a feral animal,” Jeyne snips and Melara gives an unkind laugh.

“He probably is.” Cersei is focused on the loose thread on her silk stockings. “Him and his dad live by that junkyard on 7th.”

“The one with all the dogs?” Melara questions while Jeyne gapes at her.

“You know where he lives?”

“Dad made me go with him to get something one day after my lessons.” Cersei gives a shudder for dramatic effect. “It was horrible.”

“I wonder if he has a house or if he just lives in the junk.” Melara is outright staring at him. Cersei prods her hard in the side, but more to stop her from drawing attention to them rather than to rebuff her unkind comment.

“Don’t be silly Lara.” Jeyne finishes applying hot pink nail polish to her little finger, inspecting her hand with smug satisfaction. “Even poor people get houses. The government pays for it or some shit.”

“They do not, there’s homeless people everywhere!” Melara argues.

“Well homeless people are all morons.”

“Enough,” Cersei cuts them both off, rising. She is keenly aware that all eyes are on her, not just Sandor Clegane’s. And why shouldn’t they be? She’s the most popular girl in all of Kings High School, the prettiest and brightest and by far the richest. Every girl wants to be her. Every guy wants to be with her. She’s the queen bee.

“Did you do the homework for math?” Melara asks and Cersei doesn’t even bother herself to scoff. She’d rather suck Mr. P’s dick again than keep doing calculus. Smiling to herself, she tosses her vintage Gucci bag over her shoulder and struts out of the courtyard.

* * *

“Cersei.” Jamie sounds displeased, so Cersei actually lowers her sunglasses to look at her twin.

“You’re blocking my sun,” she informs him, shifting on the reclining chair to try and get back into the warmth.

“Dad wants you.”

“What now?” she groans. If anyone gets in trouble, it’s her moronic but athletically gifted twin. Or her smart ass, rebellious younger brother.

“Did you really call Margaery a bitch and accuse her of sleeping with both the Kettleblack twins?”

“Is it an accusation if it’s true?” Cersei muses and Jamie’s handsome face splits into a grin.

“Her dad called dad. He’s pissed. You’re so going to be grounded.”

“What’s he doing to do, take away my birthday?” Cersei laughs, standing and wrapping herself up in her towel. Tywin Lannister might be the most intimidating lawyer in the city, but Cersei isn’t scared of him.

* * *

“My car?” Cersei stares at her father in horror. “And my room phone? And my credit card? Daddy! That’s not fair!”

“Listen here,” Tywin says quietly, deadly. “You children live in a mansion. You have servants to wait on your every beck and call. You have everything you could ever want and more. I’ve never asked anything of you but to not be pains in my ass, and yet you all seem to fail miserably at that. Jamie seems to get caught up in every scandal a teenage boy can, Tyrion is determined to make a mockery of my legacy, and you go around alienating every possible ally I might make.

“Listen closely, Cersei. I’m going to be running for office, which means that every aspect of my life will be put under a microscope. That means - don’t make that face at me young lady - that I expect you all to be more than perfect. Ideal, shinning children that are an asset to their father, do you understand? And that means that if you go mouthing off against any more of Mace Tyrell’s daughters, I will ground you to the cellar for a month.”

“So,” Cersei pouts, “you value Mace Tyrell’s ginormous bank account for your campaign over your own daughter?”

Tywin removed his glasses, so that Cersei could see his cold, green eyes staring levelly at her. “Yes, absolutely.”

* * *

“It isn’t fair!” Cersei leans against the massive pillar in the entryway. Jamie regards her with something akin to pity, while Tyrion has no interest in sympathizing with her whatsoever.

“Dad’s rules.” Jamie gives her a shrug and gets in his topless Jeep. Tyrion, ever a traitor, climbs in after him and even has the audacity to stick his tongue out at her as they roar away. Cersei stomps her feet, looking around helplessly. Jamie would usually break the rules for her, but not when it comes to their father. Her options now are to wait for the bus or walk. She looks down helplessly at her Chanel boots with their cute little heel.

So the bus it is then.

She gets aboard with a sneer, trying to discourage anyone from approaching her. Cersei Lannister, prom queen, on the bus? It’ll be the school’s biggest scandal, maybe even bigger than the rumors that the freshman Roslin Frey is pregnant. She takes her seat near the back, hoping that she’ll have the opportunity to slink off as soon as they reach the school without anyone seeing her.

“Taken?” the gruff voice makes her look up. Sandor Clegane is standing there, backpack hanging off one shoulder and his hood up in a desperate attempt to cover the huge scar that covers half his face. He’s got a skateboard strapped to his backpack and she eyes him and it skeptically.

“Yes,” she says sharply, putting her bag there. Maybe he’ll think that Jeyne or Melara is getting on in a couple stops. Without another word, he slinks away and throws himself bodily into a seat a few rows back. Heart bounding, Cersei arranges her backpack so that it blocks her. No one else can see her. She’s going to kill her father, and Jamie if he doesn’t relent and start driving her to school.

* * *

“The bus?” Melara looks as though Cersei has shared a grotesque description of an STD with her. “He didn’t!”

“He did,” Cersei confirms glumly, thoughtlessly stirring her leftover ginger into her soy sauce.

“How dare he.” Jeyne mimes vomiting. “I’d pretend to be sick every day for the next two weeks.”

“Two weeks,” Melara says faintly. “CC, I don’t know how you’re going to do it.”

“And then worst part?” Cersei lowers her voice. “Sandor Clegane tried to sit by me on the bus.”

“No!” Melara gasps, hand flying to her mouth in horror. Cersei nodded gravely.

“You’re so brave.” Jeyne clutches her arm. “I could never if I were you.”

“You have to tell your dad. Surely he’s not going to make you keep riding the bus if there’s dangerous people on it.”

“Please, Clegane might be ugly but he’s not dangerous,” Cersei scoffs at their childishness. “His dad works for mine, for christ’s sake. No, it’s fine. I’ll just blackmail Jamie until he gives me rides again.”

“Or you could try to get another guy to give you a ride,” Jeyne suggests with raised eyebrows. Cersei follows her line of vision to the table where the boys wrestling team sits, loudly belching and jockeying for space, generally annoying everyone in the vicinity. A slow smile starts to curl up the edge of Cersei’s mouth.

“You know, that’s not a bad idea.”

* * *

“Robert Baratheon?” Jamie looks at her incredulously. “Really? That prick?”

“Oh, don’t be jealous that he’s on the wrestling team and you’re just on the pansy football team,” Cersei teases him unkindly, going through her shoe closet with a strict eye.

“He’s a tool, C.”

“Yeah, a tool for me to survive this grounding. Dad forbid you from driving me to school, not anyone else. He can drive me and no one breaks dad’s rules. It’s a win-win.”

“Oh, and what does good old Bobby get out of it?” Jamie glares at her.

“He’s dating the hottest girl in school.” Cersei waves a dismissive hand. “Isn’t that what all you boys want anyways, to get with me?”

“Holding yourself in pretty high esteem there, for someone who gets on her knees for just about anyone,” Tyrion remarks from the doorway and Cersei gasps, turning and hurling her sharpest stiletto heel at him. Tyrion nimbly darts out of the way and disappears, but not before she sees the flash of disgust on Jamie’s face.

“What?” she questions defensively. “All the boys get praised for it, why should it be any different for girls? I get my way, that’s all that matters.”

“All that matters.” Jamie nods seriously, leaving without a backwards look. Cersei sinks onto her heels and wrinkles her nose. What does it matter what her brothers think of her? Who even gives a shit about family anyways?

* * *

“Hey.” Clegane greets her again and Cersei slowly raises her head, hoping that she radiates displeasure at his intrusion.

“Can I help you?” she demands rudely. She’s been sunbathing for the last hour, ignoring her homework. Who cares about schoolwork anyways? She’ll just marry rich.

“I, uh, wanted to see how you were doing,” he admits, avoiding her gaze. “Your dad grounded you, right? That’s why you were riding the bus?”

“I won’t be riding the bus anymore.” she bristles instantly. Who is he, to be getting in her business? Him, the poor kid from the junkyard. She appraises him at close distance now, curling her lip up in a sneer.

Jeans, black and ripped. Big, clunky boots. A ragged flannel and some rock band tee shirt. She doesn’t know who that is; she never listens to anything outside the Top 40. Long, black stringy hair that he tries to hide his scar behind. Cersei supposes his only redeeming quality is how tall he is, and how muscled he must be. He holds a skateboard in one hand like it’s a toy.

“Sorry,” he apologizes and she doesn’t bother to ask what for.

“Why are you here?” she eyes him.

“My, uh, dad is here,” he says, gesturing vaguely in the distance. She nods, as though she cares, then pushes her sunglasses back up and turns back to her magazine.

“I actually don’t care. Can you move now, so that I can get my sun? Yeah, thanks.”

* * *

“God, look at him.” Jeyne’s whisper isn’t really a whisper at all, not with the way it carries across half the theater. “He’s huge!”

“Like you’re one to talk.” Melara snorts before they’re both shushed by the stagehands. Cersei smirks, standing in her tutu, watching as Sandor Clegane walks onstage. The annual talent show at Kings High is a chance for the upper crust of the student body to show off, but somehow he’s wormed his way into the lineup. Doing what, she doesn’t really know. During the weeks of rehearsal, she was usually in the parking lot making out with Bobby instead of watching the other acts.

“Guitar?” mutters Jeyne. “How original. I’m sure he thinks he’s the next Eddie Vermont.”

“It’s Eddie Vedder and he’s a singer you moron,” some nobody hisses from behind them before they are all hushed aggressively again.

Sandor makes the guitar look tiny. Cersei leans against an amp, straining to see out past the curtain. Bobby promised he’d come to see her perform, but she hasn’t been able to spot him yet. She is just trying to peer around the curtain’s edge when Sandor starts to play. She stops, turning to look in surprise at the kid onstage.

It’s not music she’d ever listen to, but she recognizes some of it, stuff that she’s heard either from Jamie or Tyrion before she’s commanded them to turn it off. Grunge. Rock. Punk. Whatever. It always sounds so loud and angry. But there’s no mistaking that even with all of that, Sandor can play, and play well. His fingers dance over the strings, and it’s not long before the Kings High Theater is turned into a sort of impromptu rock concert.

“Wow. Is he actually good?” if Melara means to be mocking, she misses the mark.

“Apparently.” even Jeyne looks a little star struck.

“All that rock stuff sounds awful.” Cersei waves a hand, trying to stop herself from feeling a queer sensation in her stomach. She expected her friends to agree with her, but they both appear to be mesmerized by the boy onstage, playing guitar.

He ends his set with a classic even Cersei knows. Stairway to Heaven isn’t a short song, nor is it easy to play. But Sandor breezes through it, at one point clearly closing his eyes as though he’s lost in the music and the hold it has on him. Cersei watches despite herself and can’t help but feel like she’s seeing him in an entirely new light.

When he ends, the applause is thunderous. He bows, several times, but the cheers don’t quite abate. Only when the master of ceremonies takes the stage to announce the next act does it die down, but there’s no mistaking it as the best performance of the night.

Sandor moves through the backstage area, looking rather uncomfortable with all the praise he’s getting. Other acts clap his back, whispering congratulations. He sets the guitar down in the stand and grabs the water bottle that had been sitting next to it. He takes a long pull, raising his eyes to hers. Cersei, cheeks flaming, looks away.

Their performance is only a couple after Sandor. Cersei smoothes down her hair and then her tutu. She’s not nervous. She’s Cersei Lannister, why would she be nervous? Her annual ballet performance has been described as the highlight of the show and this year she’s made her solo longer, so that Melara and Jeyne don’t hog the spotlight for so long. As her name is announced, she steps out onstage with her head held high, smiling even as she can’t see Bobby or her father in the front row.

They do a bit from the Nutcracker, which makes absolutely no sense as it’s nearly May, but Cersei doesn’t care. She knows she looks good. She just wants everyone else to see it. She performs flawlessly, even if Jeyne stumbles and misses a leap and Melara falls out of a turn. That only makes her look better, she figures, but the applause at the end seems lackluster, to her. She stands backstage, determinedly avoiding looking at Sandor Clegane.

After the show, there isn’t the swarm of admirers she’s come to relish. Instead, all of the young girls flock to Sandor Clegane, who receives them with the bemused smile of someone truly confused by his sudden fame. Cersei stands in the middle of the cafeteria, hands on her hips. Neither her father or Bobby are there to give her flowers.

“This was stupid,” she declares, to no one in particular. “I’m so glad that I’m graduating soon. I hate this stupid school. I hate it so much.”

* * *

“Please stop crying,” she pleads with Joffrey, who only wails louder. Her son is sobbing and she can’t figure out why. She puts her head in her hands, resisting the urge to cry. Bobby told her he’d be home in time for supper, but he’s probably at the strip club again. She’s just debating if she can put Joffrey in a box and leave him at a police station for a month when the phone rings. She grabs it, leaving Joffrey in his hair chair and locking herself in the bathroom.

“Fuck’s sake, what’s that racket?” Jeyne demands and Cersei sinks down on the lip of the small tub, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice.

“That’s, uh, Joffrey. He’s just upset. It’s nothing.”

“Sounds like it,” Jeyne snorts. “But you should go turn on the TV. MTV.”

“Why?” Cersei eases herself out of the bathroom, sneaking past Joffrey and winching when his cries start to grow. She flips the TV on, scrolling until she gets to MTV. There’s a band playing and she blinks.

“Didn’t we go to high school with that guy?” Jeyne questions and Cersei looks at the band on screen. It’s some rock band, if the hair and outfits are anything to go off of.

“Which guy?” she asks, rather stupidly.

“Jesus, CC, the guitarist!”

“Oh.” the camera zooms in on the guitarist and with a jolt, Cersei realizes who it is. Sandor Clegane. “Yeah. We did go to school with him I guess.”

He looks good. Still tall and strong, but his back is no longer hunched. He stands straight, playing guitar with the same intensity that he had as a high school. But there’s more confidence about him now, the easy nature with which her interacts with the camera and his bandmates. When he steps towards the crowd of screaming teens and flashes them a rare smile, several girls in the front swoon dramatically.

“I thought so. Did he work for your dad?” Jeyne is talking without waiting for Cersei to answer. “Anyways, I guess he’s pretty famous. Who knew? He’s been touring all over the world.”

“Is he playing around here?” Cersei finds herself asking.

“Yeah, at the Dragon’s arena. Mel and I have tickets.”

“Why not make it a girl’s night?” Cersei suggests, unsure of why she’s doing this.

“Can you make it?” Jeyne has a slightly mocking tone in her voice. Cersei listens to Joffrey scream in the room next to her and decides based on impulse.

“Yeah, I can.”

Joffrey goes to her father’s. Tyrion is home and agrees to watch him, surprisingly. She dumps Joffrey in his arms and leaves, feeling free for the first time since agreeing to marry Bobby and getting pregnant. She pulls up her mini skirt to hide the c-section scar that stretches across her belly and pushes her boobs together, doing her best to not look like a tired old lady in too much makeup.

Jeyne and Melara are full of empty joy at seeing her, kissing her cheeks and promising to stop by more often. Cersei knows it’s a lie, but she ignores it. Tonight is different. She can feel it in the air. They’re not even to their seats and she’s already day dreaming. Maybe he’ll spot her in the crowd and remember. There was something there, when they were kids, though she’d never admit it even if her life depended on it. She was a good girl. She was going to marry rich. Except she’d married Bobby and he was all but worthless.

Sandor would see her and remember, she is sure of it. He’ll take her away from all of this. As the lights go down, she feels a rush in her stomach. He’ll want her. Who wouldn’t? He had such a crush on her all those years ago. It’d be easy, to seduce him again. She just has to get his attention. And as the band comes out, she holds her breath as he steps out to a huge roar from the audience.

He still plays so well. The people around her know every song and they sing along, loudly and badly. One girl is wearing a tee-shirt with Sandor’s face on it and she shrieks with unrestrained glee when he tosses a guitar pick into the crowd after one song. It’s nearly intermission when the singer grabs the mic and pushes his hair back.

“Thank y’all for coming out to see us, we’re the Hounds and we’ve got a very special guest to welcome out on stage - Sansa Stark!”

The crowd around Cersei screams but she’s baffled. She has no idea who this girl might be. A perky red head bounces onstage, wearing a short skirt and a cropped top that shows off her trim figure and a couple tattoos. Her red hair is braided back intricately, and she plays with a velvet chocker.

“Hi everyone.” her voice is soft and smooth, almost seductive. “Thanks for having me out here. I want to play you guys something new I’ve been working on….”

The entire band but Sandor leaves the stage. He takes his place to the left of her without looking. Sansa turns back to the crowd, a little smile on her face. She sings a pretty song about birds and love, but Cersei doesn’t really care. All that matters is that Sansa Stark doesn’t seem to be so much as playing with Sandor Clegane as is she for him. She moves across the stage and he follows, with a haunting melody for her words. Half the time she’s facing Sandor, so close that they could touch and Sandor keeps his eyes on her, watching her with the same intense focus he plays the guitar with.

“Who was that?” Cersei demands, when it’s intermission and the lights go up. The girl next to her laughs, then grows serious when it’s clear that Cersei isn’t joking.

“That’s Sansa Stark,” she explains obviously.

“No shit,” Cersei says sharply and the girl rolls her eyes.

“She’s Sandor Clegane’s muse. He just talked about their relationship to Rolling Stone like last month. They think they’re so coy, but everyone knows they’re fucking. It’s so obvious.”

“They’re together?” Cersei looks back at the stage where the girl had just been. Nothing Cersei couldn’t have beaten in her prime. But she is well past her prime now; her stomach and hips stretched from Joffrey’s birth and her sagging chest since Bobby had insisted she nurse to save money on formula.

“Yeah, they’re rock’s golden couple.” the girl rolled her eyes again, standing. “Go read a magazine or something.”

Cersei treks to the merchant stand, lying to Melara and Jeyne about needing a drink. There, amidst teeshirts and hoodies with the band’s logo of three dogs, is the Rolling Stone magazine with Sandor’s face on it. She snatches it up when the girl working the stand isn’t looking and stands off to the side, hungrily devouring it.

_‘….and while he’s best known for accompanying his band the Hounds on guitar, Sandor Clegane is breaking into a new era, helped along by one Sansa Stark._

**_What did you see in Sansa Stark that made you want to work with her?_ **

_Great talent. Crazy voice. Her sound was unlike anything I’d ever heard. She was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. I knew instantly she was special._

**_How did you two meet?_ **

_She approached me after a show and introduced herself. Not in a fan of the band type way, but a fan of music. She mentioned having a demo so I took it and didn’t think anything of it. Then when I got back on the tour bus and listened, I spent the next day tracking her down._

**_What are you most excited about for this adventure?_ **

_I’m always going to be in the Hounds. We’re going to be touring. But having Sansa come with, spending the off days in the studio with her, man, I can’t even explain it. Having a muse like her, right there, living and breathing in front of me? Indescribable._

**_Can you tell us about the music that you’re working on right now?_ **

_Insane. Special. Talented. There’s nothing that girl can’t do. She pushes my boundaries - all my boundaries - daily. The writing, both of music and lyrics, has taken on a whole different dimension. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever done before and it’s all because of her._

**_You seem pretty smitten._ **

_Have one conversation with her! (here, Clegane leans back and laughs, throwing his arms wide and shrugging, as if to say who’s to blame?) That girl. That girl._

**_Has she inspired any of your music?_ **

_Not my past stuff. Not the angsty, hard stuff. That's my own stuff from the Hounds. That’s why I’m so excited for this joint venture. It’s a chance to explore almost a softer side of things. She’s got a single - and at risk of spoiling it - that sort of charts this epic love story of two people coming together after some hard times and how healing that can be, and that’s what I love the most. So I think this new period is really going to us inspiring the other._

**_So does this mean that you’re off the market?_ **

_Hey, man! I’m enjoying life. I’m enjoying the road. When I was a kid, no one wanted me. Pretty lonely thing. Took me this long to find my people, my family. All I’m going to say is that I really enjoy who’s in it right now. Romantically and platonically._

**_Any chance you’ll tell us who’s who?_ **

_You can guess. I think the whole world can guess. Come to a concert sometime._

**_How do you deal with the fame?_ **

_Like I said. Surrounded myself by a found family. I don’t have anyone that's fake or with bad motives around me. I’ve got a great band, I’ve got an amazing team, and I’ve got Sansa Stark in the studio with me. What more could a man want?_

**_You mentioned a bad past. How does that impact you now?_ **

_It’s forgotten, most of it. But you know, I draw a lot on that time to remember how I got to where I am now. I was a loner, a kid on a skateboard. I got made fun of, I got called poor, I lived in the junkyard, all that stuff. It just made me pick up my guitar and practice, practice, practice, till my fingers bled. I would not be the guitarist I am today if it weren’t for that. I remember playing in my high school talent show once and all these people that usually ignored me were rushing up to tell me how great I was. I mean, kids that usually snickered at me. So that was my first lesson in seeking out good people. Avoiding those with ill intentions. And let me tell you, there were a couple things I did better to avoid._

**_Like what?_ **

_Just that crowd in high school who think that’s the most important time. I mean, at the time it did seem important. Who was dating the prettiest girl, right? Meanwhile she wouldn’t even look at me. I think I internalized that quite a bit, but now that I’ve found people who want me for me, who appreciate all aspects of me, it seems so stupid, you know? My present, with the Hounds, and my future with Sansa is so much greater because I can appreciate them for what they are.'_

* * *

Cersei watches the rest of the show with a lead ball in the pit of her stomach. She’s now just a footnote in his story? An obstacle he overcome to make him who he is now? That’s bullshit. This Sansa Stark, with her red hair and mile long legs, is nothing compared to her. Cersei will rewrite that article. He’ll fall back in love with her and it’ll be about their fated love, not some slut singer who probably spreads her legs from every band member. Cersei deserves Sandor. She deserves his fame and fortune and talent.

After the show, she lies her way backstage. It’s rather easy to do, when all she really has to do is bring up her connections to Sandor. The security guys don’t seem to mind, not with half of them staring down her chest anyways. She pauses outside the tent area, fixing her skirt and bra. Then she tosses her hair over her shoulder and enters.

The place is busy, a few of the sound crew guys sitting on overturned boxes near the keg and band members on couches. In the middle, Sansa Stark is dancing, her red braid swaying side to side as she sings.

“….and he’s buying her a stairway to heaven….”

“I love when you sing that song,” Sandor remarks, staring at her with a smile. If Cersei was a romantic, she’d say he has stars in his eyes.

“We should cover their Madison Square Garden performance,” Sansa suggests dreamily, sitting in his lap.

“Acid trips included?” Sandor chuckles and when one of the band members shouts a suggestion, he looks up and spots Cersei. She sees his lips move but she can’t hear the words, not with someone suddenly taking up a drum solo on her right. She sees Sansa look between the two of them, then her leaning forward and whispering something in Sandor’s ear. She certainly sees that Sansa bites Sandor’s earlobe as she pulls away.

He gets up and takes Sansa’s hand. The two of them cross the space and before she knows what’s happening, Cersei has been escorted out of the tent. She nearly stumbles over the uneven ground, but Sandor’s got a tight grip on her arm and carries her over it, all without letting go of Sansa.

“Sandor, I—” she tries to explain, but what she’s not sure.

“How’d you get back here?” he asks her, a bit roughly when he lets her go. Cersei wants to reach for him but Sansa is twining her arms around him, a sweet smile on her face that only seems smug when Cersei really looks.

“They let me. I told them I knew you, that we were friends, that we—”

“I’m going to ask you to leave, now, before I call security,” he informs her and she blinks.

“What? Why?”

“I don’t want you back here,” he says, as though it should be obvious.

“But you — me — liked,” she stammers lamely and Sansa snorts, then turns it into a very polite cough.

“I was a kid.” Sandor is looking at her like she’s grown two heads. “And you couldn’t stand me. Why the hell would I care now?”

“I thought….” she trailed off, realizing the enormity of her mistake. Cheeks flaming, she looks down at herself.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Sansa says brightly. “I’m sure there’s plenty of other guys in the band looking for a groupie. Let her stay, honey.”

“Fine.” Sandor relents and Sansa grins at Cersei like she’s done her some great favor. Cersei seethes as Sansa stretches up so that she can kiss Sandor’s cheek.

“C’mon love, I’m thirsty. How about we go back to your bus and you get me a drink?”

Sansa Stark walks away with Sandor Clegane’s hand planted firmly on her ass. She even has the audacity to turn around throw Cersei a wink, like they’re gal pals and she’s won a friendly game. Cersei is left alone, with nothing and no one, watching as Sansa takes her skater boy away with her.

**Author's Note:**

> i swear that i'm working on my long form sansan stuff but this just amused me so much writing it that i had to share 
> 
> if you enjoyed, leave me a comment pretty please, even if it's only what song transports you directly back into your past


End file.
